


Hate's a Game and Love's a Fuck

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, Humor, Kink Meme, Love/Hate, M/M, Movie Theater Sex, Shakespeare, Smut, premiere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-18
Updated: 2011-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vaguely addressing <a href="http://ontd-pinto.livejournal.com/299786.html?thread=22752778#t22752778">this prompt</a> from the kink meme take two.  Here's an AU wherein the course of Pinto history post-Star Trek takes a different route.   Pinto are constantly cast together.  Little does the public know that they can't stand each other.  They can deal with working together, though – that is, until they're cast as a couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate's a Game and Love's a Fuck

_**Hate's a Game and Love's a Fuck**_  
 **Title:** Hate's a Game and Love's a Fuck  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[**htebazytook**](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** <\--  
 **Pairing:** Zach/Chris  
 **Author's Notes:** Vaguely addressing [this prompt](http://ontd-pinto.livejournal.com/299786.html?thread=22752778#t22752778) from the kink meme take two. Here's an AU wherein the course of Pinto history post-Star Trek takes a different route. Pinto are constantly cast together. Little does the public know that they can't stand each other. They can deal with working together, though – that is, until they're cast as a couple.

Sometimes, Chris wonders if their agents are better friends than they are. Actually, he knows they are.

Laura and Debbie hunch busily over their BlackBerrys on the couch across from them while Zach sits with his legs crossed and arms folded impatiently to Chris's right.

Chris catches Zach's eye during the pensive silence and shoots him a look that's meant to be commiserating.

Zach only sighs in annoyance and looks at his watch, says to the room at large, "I do actually have to walk Noah at some point, today."

Chris rolls his eyes, mutters, "'Cause nobody else in the world is busy."

Zach pretends not to hear him – he's far too preoccupied with staring down their agents like a monarch scrutinizing a pair of unworthy subjects.

Back to the corporate silence of fingers meeting keys. After a minute Zach says, "Look, do you guys want to just send out an e-mail later or something?"

Chris sighs. "Is there something you actually gain by being so insufferably rude?"

"Well yeah, I mean, your exasperation ranks pretty high on the list of things that please me."

"Okay guys!" Laura says, looking up in sync with Debbie. "We've been working on this upcoming ro—"

Debbie elbows her. "Roles."

"Right, roles," Laura says, looking conspicuously inconspicuous. "And the casting director said the parts were written with you two in mind, and of course we've already looked over the contracts and cleared your schedules . . ."

"So," Debbie continues, like it's some well rehearsed little act of theirs. Ick. "We'll just need your signatures to get started on the rest of paperwork, and—" She practically throws pen and paper in front of them.

Laura smiles encouragingly.

Zach sighs because he's oh so emo, leans forward and starts skimming. "Yeah, whatever, I just want to get out of here."

And because Chris knows the world at large won't stop harassing him if he doesn't take the part too he grabs a pen and signs and dates it in record time, hoping Zach will follow his example and speed along the process of Chris not having to endure him any longer, at least for today.

Chris's unclicking the pen and sitting back in his chair when he sees Zach freeze mid-signature.

Chris frowns. "Zach?"

"This is a romantic comedy," he says in horror.

Chris's jaw practically drops. "Et tu, Debbie?" She _knows_ the great lengths Chris goes to to avoid doing the romcom rumba ever again.

Debbie hurries to explain: "The studio's been badgering us about this for a couple of weeks now. Laura and I have worked out a good deal. I promise it's not gonna be your run-of-the-mill piece of shit—"

"It's gonna be a game changer for the genre," Laura declares.

But Zach is consumed with evil glee over on his side of the couch. "Well it looks like a fine mess you've gotten yourself into, there, Chris. You have fun playing gay on the silver screen, okay?" He starts gathering his things.

"Kristen Bell's already confirmed as your sidekick-slash-confidant," Laura wheedles.

"No thanks," Zach laughs.

But Chris is kind of stuck now, and he'll be damned if he can't at least drag Zach down along with him.

"Well, _I_ don't have a problem with it unlike this disgusting homophobe to my right," Chris says, pointing at Zach with his thumb.

Zach stares blankly. "That's really. That's what you're going with. Really."

Chris turns to glare at him. "Chicken."

Zach laughs, then sobers at the look in Chris's eye. "Challenge accepted." And he signs, sacrificing legibility to keep staring Chris down.

*

There's a huge gaudy poster for _What Goes Around Comes Around_ in the hallway at the studio, and it seems only proper to pause and pay their respects.

There's Chris trying to outrun a bunch of doppelgangers and Zach looking amused with a giant silly font pronouncing them stars slapped over the scene. And let's not forget Zac Effron shrugging in befuddlement in the background. Jesus Christ.

After a minute Zach says resignedly: "We're such fucking sellouts."

Chris shrugs. "I've made peace with it. And the money doesn't hurt."

Zach gives a little disgusted snort.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I offend you, Mr. I-wear-a-Prada-belt-around-the-house?"

"Fuck off."

Luckily it isn't much longer before they're called in to read together.

" _I'm not gay_ ," Chris says, in an outrage. " _I have a girlfriend!_ "

" _So what?_ " Zach says. Chris can tell he's considering following the stage direction to step close and seize Chris's arm passionately, somehow. Which he probably only skips over because he's unsure of how to seize someone's arm passionately. " _You're my best friend. You're . . . more than that._ "

Chris tries desperately not to laugh at Zach's studied pause, pushes onward with his line: " _You're right. Everything carries me to you._ Hey, isn't that Neruda or something?"

"Cummings," Zach corrects. "Way to go, Bachelor's Degree."

"All right!" the director says, clapping her hands together. "That was great, you guys. I don't think we need to see any more — I'll be in touch with your agents with the details. We've still got to cast Mr. Millers, but after that we'll be shooting in a couple of weeks."

"Who?" Chris asks.

"Your boss in the movie."

"I have a boss in the movie?" Chris says.

"Who cares?" Zach yawns. He's already checked out.

"Okay!" the director says, clearly pleased with herself. "Thanks again for coming in!" And she's whisked away in a flurry of producers and assistants.

*

"In what world does Seth Rogan play my _boss_?"

Zach sighs, sitting across from him at the table read which they're both unfortunately early for. It's nice to see a familiar face, at least. "Uh, in the world of romantic comedy, dumbass."

Chris taps his foot. Zach texts away on his phone. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Twee-ting," Zach enunciates, like Chris's just asked what color the sky is.

"Oh, _sorry_." Chris hates Zach's tweets. Chris is conscious of his own douchiness, but Zach actually thinks he's just that superior and devastatingly artsy, which in Chris's opinion is far douchier.

Whatever. Chris for one plans on looking studious whenever the director arrives. He takes his script out of his bag and forces himself to read. Of course the words are so watered down and clichéd that he's mostly just scanning his over them and not really registering all that much.

He feels Zach's eyes. Doesn't bother looking up. "Yes, how can I help you, Zach?"

"How can you even _read_ that drivel?"

Chris puts the script down and looks at him. "It's a simple procedure, Zach. I just train my eyeballs to the words until they transfer into my brain while dollar signs dance in my head."

"And then you click your heels together three times?"

"Well I think that goes without saying."

And oddly, Zach seems, like, _embarrassed_ that he can no longer find solace in his omnipotent phone. Chris's trying to think of something mocking to say but it's slow in coming for some reason. "Seriously, man. How do you do it?"

Chris blinks at that note of earnestness. "I mean, I guess I just stopped caring after some point. We have it pretty fucking good, you know. At least we're not stuck on Criminal Minds."

Zach's affronted. "Um, excuse me, I am a huge supporter of A&E programming."

"Oh? I would've pegged you for a TLC kind of guy."

"Please, Chris. Let's not get carried away, here. We do have reputations to uphold."

Chris frowns.

"I mean, not really, but still . . ."

They sit there and tap their feet and tap their fingers. Chris licks his lips and tosses his script a little bit away. "Hey. You know I never even read these things until the first read through. Helps me keep from getting too bored too early."

Zach laughs. "I gathered that from the way you make ridiculous faces and say really terrible lines as a question."

"Yeah I'm not trying very hard to be professional. I figure if the writers, producers, and general public don't make an effort then why should I?"

"Heh." Zach flips through his own script, and Chris can glimpse fluorescent highlights and little notes on the side. It's kind of sad how he clings to respectability. "Yeah this has got to be the most unrealistic excuse for a love story I've ever seen. And I've seen Tori and Dean in person."

"Wow. That was brutal, even for you," Chris says. "I commend thee."

Zach's practically blushing.

Chris says, "So you're kind of a psychopath, aren't you."

"Kinda, yeah."

But their conversation's cut short by a sudden influx of castmates, and then it's time to make small talk with an array of comedy heavy hitters. And Dane Cook, too.

Chris catches up with Zach after the interminable reading, and as soon as they catch each other's eye they're both compelled to laugh at the reality of it all.

"So how's your BFF Mr. Cook?" Zach asks.

Chris sighs. "Don't even ask." Dane passes and gives a friendly little nod. Chris smiles and returns it while Zach snickers.

"You're the fucking psychopath. You're a fucking _sociopath_."

"Probably," Chris says. "But at least I can maintain a relationship."

Zach makes quite the face.

"I know you're still in broad comedy mode, but I really don't think that was warranted, just saying."

"Please. You go through girls like Gary Busey goes through brain cells."

Chris laughs. "Dude, you are on _fire_ today."

Zach shrugs, lifts his condescending POM Wonderful in a toast. "To the idiots of the world who feed my ego."

Yeah, okay, so Zach knows he's an asshole too. And they really do have that chemistry that everyone talks about. They do. It's just that they're a little bit too similar to coexist for long.

*

" _I've found what you're like._ "

" _Oh?_ " Zach says, teasing.

" _The rain_ ," Chris says, with wobbly romantic earnestness. He notices the glint in Zach's eye that means he's swallowing laughter and approaches him there on the set in front of everybody.

" _Oh, Aaron,_ " Zach says, choking on something that sounds like a sob but Chris identifies as a giggle. " _I'd rather than anything have . . ._ " He gazes at him. " _Just to_ almost _kiss you, all the time._ "

" _There's nothing almost about it,_ " Chris declares, and they lock lips passionately. Chris thinks he hears someone gasp from the peanut gallery. Thankfully the director yells _cut_.

Zach backs away. "Ugh, think you used enough tongue there Chris? Not sure if I got the point after the first two mouth-rapings."

"Takes," Chris corrects, rubbing at his face. "Like you're one to talk. Would it kill you to shave?"

"Um, hello, I am _trying_ to play an attractively scruffy leading man over here."

Chris laughs. "Yeah, well, at least I don't need to hide behind facial hair to create the illusion of being physically appealing."

"So humble," Zach says, shaking his head fondly. "What a charming little boy next door."

"Ew, you're such pedo, dude . . ."

"Okay, boys, I think we got it!" the director shouts, holding court with staff and the director for the second unit and probably a court jester thrown in for good measure. Chris should probably make it a goal to learn her name before they wrap.

" _Finally_ ," Zach groans, stalking past Chris and off the set. And Chris follows because he much prefers bickering with Zach to being forced to engage in small talk with these other assholes.

"Pretty fucking ridiculous, reassigning Cummings like that," Zach remarks.

"And not even well. Fucked up the disjointedness."

Zach _mm_ 's. "I'm personally just shocked that these 'writers' have even heard of him."

"Oh, don't get carried away," Chris says. "I'm sure they just did a quick Google search for love poems."

"I mean," Zach says, pausing while they push through the studio door and out into the blinding California sun. "You can't just go around stealing from literary geniuses as some kind of substitute for storyline."

"At least it wasn't Lady Gaga or something."

Zach shudders.

They stroll in companionable silence towards the shitty food cart out on the pavement. It's just mutually understood between them that coffee is needed whenever possible. They obtain the stuff and stroll into some shade.

"You know," Chris says. "Our characters probably would've been fucking by now if they weren't so damn self absorbed with their own personal angsty longing."

"I think that's kind of the point."

"It's not very realistic."

"I . . . think that's kind of the point."

Chris sips crappy coffee. "I dunno, I mean. People invent entire relationships in their own minds. How much of it is really being attracted to someone and them feeling the same, and how much of it is just loving the mere idea of love?"

Zach raises his eyebrows. "Dude, your love map was clearly distorted in your formative years."

"Nobody cares that you're a self-proclaimed behavioral analyst."

"Actor," Zach translates. "And you're an actor too so way to throw stones in a glass house . . ."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Come on, man. Nobody actually uses idioms in everyday speech. You're letting Tommy take over."

"Who?"

". . . Your. Character?"

Zach shrugs.

*

"Hey, are you coming out or what?"

Chris looks up from his phone to reply: "Hey, are you coming out or what?"

"Oh, haha," Zach says. "No, listen, a bunch of us are going clubbing tonight. Just thought I'd make an attempt at being civil to you and extend the invitation."

"Well of course I'm honored that you'd deign to sink to my level and everything, but I'm not a fan of the New York party scene. I know and understand it in LA, and that's about all that I can handle, so."

"Whaat?" Zach is far too giddy to even acknowledge Chris's bitchiness. "Oh, come on, I fucking love New York."

"So buy a t-shirt," Chris suggests boredly.

"I wouldn't mind living here. I mean, it'd be pretty inconvenient, but I could get to do more plays and stuff. And let's not forget the main advantage – not running into you around the neighborhood all the time and being forced to make nice in front of the paps."

"Hey, I don't know about you, but I never make nice in front of the paps."

"Anyway, whatever. I'm off."

He leaves and it makes Chris anxious. He hates shooting on location, and Zach's usually a comforting constant, at least.

*

They way directors always insist on filming everything utterly out of order has never made sense to Chris. Yet it seems to make sense to everyone else that they'd be filming the scene of their heroes' first meeting on the last day of principal photography.

" _Well, Tommy, it's been fun, but I've really gotta be heading home now. I've got a meeting with Mr Parker in the morning._ "

" _Yeah, I hear you,_ " Zach says. " _Thanks again for entertaining me._ "

" _What, you don't have a lot of work buddies?_ "

" _Um, that would be a no. I can't even remember the last time I showed up to an office party._ "

" _Yeah, they're kind of a drag,_ " Chris says, watching Zach watching him he goes all out and really sells his line with all the sultry suggestion of something burlesque: " _Facebook me._ "

And Zach struggles not to laugh, which is something that Chris takes great pleasure in, but unfortunately that's his cue to exit stage right. He watches the rest of the scene once he's out of the shot:

Kristen pops up at Zach's side while Zach stares wistfully after him. Chris sticks out his tongue like a child and Zach looks quickly away with a twitch of a smile.

" _Hey, since when do you know Aaron?_ " Kristen asks.

" _Huh? Wait, how do _you_ know him?_ "

" _Oh,_ " Kristen says, " _he's my friend Katie's boyfriend._ "

"Cut!" what's-her-name-the-director bellows. The cast disperse like a herd of spooked poseurs.

Chris waits for Zach to pass him out of habit, anticipating the traditional coffee run. It takes a minute for him to realize Zach's still busy giggling with Kristen.

So Chris just goes by himself, and for some reason that makes him feel like the unpopular kid again. Even the cashier guy seems to pity him. But when Chris turns around he's met with Zach's crazily made up movie face.

"Dick," Zach laughs, pushing past him to order. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

Chris sighs. "My sincerest apologies. I didn't realize my contract entailed escorting you to your caffeine fix."

"Dick," Zach repeats, grabs his drink and they walk to a miraculously shaded bench.

They're kind of like brothers. That is, brothers that clash constantly but by some doom of the heavens are stuck together.

"So, I kicked your ass in there," Chris says conversationally.

"What, just because you have big blue doey eyes?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, whatever," Zach says.

They drink in silence for awhile.

"Hey, did you hear they're changing the title to What Lies Before Us?"

Chris snickers. "I didn't think it was possible to get any worse than So Close and Yet So Far."

"Sometimes I think this script was written by one of our crazy fangirls," Zach muses.

"We have crazy fangirls?"

"We _only_ have crazy fangirls."

By some unspoken understanding that they stand and chuck their empty cups in the garbage. Zach leads the way back to the set.

Chris says, "Maybe one day someone will attempt to write a truly original romantic comedy. I'm not saying they have to actually succeed, just that they'd make the effort to go way out on a limb and _attempt_ originality."

"I doubt it. The cult of same is all the chic," Zach says wisely.

Chris laughs. "You're a type A douche."

*

They've been waiting for their next interview for so long that Zach's started reading something. And that's been going on for so long that Chris finally can't stand it and has to say:

"What the fuck is that, anyway?" Chris indicates the stapled-up packet Zach's pouring over.

"Midsummer Night's Dream. I might be doing Shakespeare in the Park."

Chris laughs. "Since when are you into plays?"

Zach doesn't look up. "Since high school. Since always." He marks his place with the pencil he'd been so studiously notating with and looks at Chris. "Come on, man. Shakespeare's the dream. There's no way you can twist this around to turn me into an asshole for liking and aspiring to do Shakespeare."

There really isn't. Chris lets his shields down for a minute. "Jeez, I can't remember the last time I did a project with any redeeming acting value. Or literary value."

"Or entertainment value," Zach adds.

"Truth."

There's a non-bitchy silence while Zach reads another page with Chris peeping over his shoulder.

"Hey, will you read Hermia for this one scene?" Zach asks, like it's normal for them to help each other with their homework, but Chris doesn't mind.

"Wouldn't you rather play with some waiflike barely-legal-year-old, just to keep it authentic?"

Zach smirks. "Not my type."

"Fine," Chris says, snatches the script since he assumes Zach's got it memorized. "You want me to do falsetto or something?"

"No thanks," Zach says, clears his throat and begins:

" _How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale?  
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?_ "

" _Belike for want of rain, which I could well  
Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes._ "

" _Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,_  
Could ever hear by tale or history,  
The course of true love never did run smooth;  
But, either it was different in blood,--"

" _O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low._ "

" _Or else misgraffed in respect of years,--_ "

" _O spite! too old to be engaged to young._ "

" _Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,--_ "

" _O hell! to choose love by another's eyes._ "

" _Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,_  
 _War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,_  
 _Making it momentany as a sound,_  
 _Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;_  
 _Brief as the lightning in the collied night,_  
 _That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,_  
 _And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'_  
 _The jaws of darkness do devour it up:  
_ _So quick bright things come to confusion. "_

" _If then true lovers have been ever cross'd,_  
 _It stands as an edict in destiny:_  
 _Then let us teach our trial patience,_  
 _Because it is a customary cross,_  
 _As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,_  
 _Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers. "_

"Dude," Zach laughs, gets an odd admiring light in his eyes. "That was pretty fucking good."

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna brag or anything," Chris says, cracking his knuckles showily. "But I've got this piece of paper that proclaims my expertise on the subject."

Zach's smile is slow and savoring. "What's you're favorite play?"

"Othello."

Zach makes a face. "Not Hamlet or something? Why, you dig the race stuff over the revenge stuff? Not that there isn't always revenge stuff."

"I uh." And Chris stops to laugh at himself. "I think Iago's kind of a badass."

Zach laughs. "He kind of is."

"And I'm pretty sure he's in love with Othello, in his own twisted way."

"Oh no, yeah, totally. Heh."

"What about you?"

Immediately, "Taming of the Shrew."

"Whaaat? Why?"

Zach shrugs. "I like to think Kate wasn't actually put in her proper womanly place and was just playing along and biding her time at the end. Like in Stepford Wives."

"What, so she's the gay icon of the Elizabethan era now with all her struggles and hardships to be who she is and whatnot?"

Zach laughs. "Oh don't get me wrong, she's a fucking psycho. You know, I read this—"

"Chris? Zach?" says the harried attendant at the door. "They're ready for you. Makeup's gonna do a quick touch-up and then we're ready to go. Thanks for your patience!"

Chris shakes his head to clear it of iambic pentameter. It's both depressing and encouraging to remember their profession does have prestige and masterpiece under its belt, no matter that the two of them avoid it at all costs.

*

"So I think it's fair to say you two are the next Will Ferrell and John C Reilly . . ."

"Nope."  
" _How_?"

The interviewer, who Chris has mentally dubbed Wannabe Seacrest, smiles encouragingly at them, then pushes right along to the next question:

"So how was it doing your first romantic comedy together? A bit of a departure from What Goes Around Comes Around. . ." Wannabe Seacrest laughs, cringingly fake.

Chris can tell Zach's got a bitchy double-meaning of a comeback on the tip of his tongue so Chris jumps in: "I dunno, I mean, I always thought of Kirk and Spock as a love story." He puts an arm around Zach for effect. "Right buddy?"

Zach does that thing where he's paralyzed by disbelieving silent laughter for a minute and looks down.

Wannabe Seacrest's eyes widen. "Oh. Yes?" He regroups. "Yes, and that was a break out role for both of you."

There's a beat.

"I'm sorry, was that a question?" Zach asks.

"Yeah, definitely didn't hear the interrogatory timbre, there."

"'Interrogatory timbre'?" Zach says, turning on him. "Is that a tense they only teach you about in fancy college English?"

"Well I mean, at least I want to _legitimate_ college, Zach . . ."

Wannabe Seacrest laughs. "Oh you two and that famous banter!"

Zach gives him a look that mirrors Chris's internal exasperation. Thank God he'd double dared Zach into taking the damn role, if only to console Chris with the knowledge that he too was suffering.

*

"So I think it's fair to say you two are the next Fry and Laurie . . ."

"Not even a little bit."  
"The fuck are you smoking?"

"Oh!" Nigel (he just looks like a Nigel) turns to the production staff. "We'll have to bleep that out, guys."

"Sorry," Chris says, not sounding sorry. "I meant to say like bollocks or something. Whatever."

"Jeez, I thought you guys were more lenient," says Zach, who generally has his back when it comes to being an asshole to others.

"Let's talk about What Lies Before Us," Nigel forges on. "This film is being heralded as a game changer for the tired old genre of the romantic comedy." He looks expectantly at them.

Zach raises his eyebrows as if to say _Go on_.

"You talking to us?" Chris asks after a minute.

"I. Um." Nigel mutters to himself, "Just my luck to have them on an off day . . ."

"Ah!" Zach says, making Chris jump. "I see what you're saying. It's a big-budget movie with a gay couple as the subject. And that's just shockingly unheard of so we've got to talk in great detail about how revolutionary it is to acknowledge that the gay community exists. So yeah, I guess in that sense it's a game changer. Well spotted!"

Nigel pinches the bridge of his nose while Chris sits back in his chair to watch the drama unfold with glee.

Some time later, after the dust has settled and they've been ushered to wherever it is they're scheduled to go next, Chris bursts into laughter.

"You'd better save some of that soapboxing for the red carpet man," Chris says. "There's premieres and award shows galore still to come."

"We're _not_ going to any awards shows."

"Ever heard of the Brokeback effect?"

"There's that," Zach admits. "Pisses me off though. I say, do you fancy some mid-day alcohol?"

Chris laughs. Zach knows his answer.

They walk together out onto an old London street. European cities always make Chris feel like he's stepped back in time. He's been here with Zach before, of course. He's been to plenty of extraordinary places with Zach, and they never had felt as extraordinary as advertised. He was starting to get over the thrill of it all – money, privilege, celebrity, isolation.

"I feel like I don't even know what it's like to be at home anymore," Chris says.

"Yeah, we don't really ever stop going, do we?"

"Yeah, well."

*

Zach catches up to him on the carpet and drags him off for a fiesta of flashbulbs, but Chris knows he's just avoiding the interviews.

"This has got to be the shittiest premiere I've ever been to," Zach says through clenched smiling teeth.

Chris puts his arm around Zach to turn them away from the most blinding of the cameras. "I heard they're not even feeding us."

"Well what did you expect?" Zach says, throwing Chris's arm off so he can put his own arm around Chris and therefore become the manlier of the two of them. Chris tries desperately not to roll his eyes — it'd probably look pretty fucking creepy and end up on The Soup or something. "Anyway, chill out. I've got a bag of Himalania Goji Berry Chocolate Crunch with Pistachio."

"I didn't know it was possible to make snack food douchey," Chris says, "but if anyone can do it, it's you. Props, man." Still, he's secretly relieved by the promise of sustenance.

"Well, we don't want you getting cranky, do we?" Zach says, slipping away and abandoning him to the media.

Once inside the theater Chris heaves a huge sigh, cracks his neck and nearly jumps out of his skin when Zach pops up out of nowhere, proffering the chocolate nut berry thingies.

"You scared the shit out of me, man."

"Pussy," Zach says.

Chris snatches up the bag. "Thanks. I'm fucking starving, for real," he laughs. They start walking, falling in with the current of the crowd. That is, until Zach veers off course and tugs Chris along with him.

"The fuck are you doing?" Chris hisses. "The theater's—"

"Oh come on, nobody sees the movie. Don't tell me you relish the idea of sitting through it."

"Well no," Chris admits as they round a mercifully empty corner. "But I gotta say I was looking forward to perhaps initiating some kind of drinking game." He pulls a flask out of his inside jacket pocket.

"Heh." Zach leads them up a hidden stairwell.

"How the fuck do you even know how to get here?" Chris asks, pathetically out of breath on the stairs. "How aren't there security guards or something — I mean," and he drops to whisper: "Dude, isn't their gonna be someone up here?"

"You weren't a cool kid in school, were you, Chris? Chill the fuck out."

They aren't met with some Hollywood henchmen at top of the stairs. It's just Zach looking amused in his snazzy suit and this weird contraption sitting in the room that seems to be in charge of projecting the movie, but it's far from what Chris had expected. And Chris must've been eyeing it because Zach says:

"Digital, dumbass."

"Okay, sure, but why are they doing something of What Lies Before Us caliber in fucking digital?"

"Why does Giuliana Rancic exist?" Zach asks. "There are some mysteries of the universe we'll just never know the answers to."

Chris laughs. "Dude, is there _anyone_ in the greater LA area you don't secretly think is a tool bag?"

Zach smirks at his choice of words. "You know who."

Chris's got this comeback about Voldemort and Zach being a terrible person in general but it gets overtaken by a sudden swarm of butterflies in his stomach because Zach's gotten suddenly closer and Chris's mouth is suddenly dry. Licks his lips and blinks at Zach's each nearness and helps him out by leaning in too until it's a kiss.

And Chris's heart beats because this isn't some docile chick with disarming softness and secret evil plans – it's strong tall Zach who's rank with lust and as upfront as they come.

Chris breaks the kiss, compelled to tell Zach: "I'm not gay."

Zach laughs and shakes his head, kisses him quiet. And from that point on Chris chooses to ignore any protests of his common sense or higher brain function or anything that isn't born out of hot blood and impulsive want.

Chris's hands in Zach's suavely slicked back hair and his tongue in Zach's silly orange Tic-Tac flavored mouth. Zach's watch is hot with residual heat from the sun, catching Chris's arm hairs painfully; his favorite red carpet belt digging into Chris's hip bone; breathing out through his nose and sucking on Chris's tongue and Chris is hard as fuck.

Chris steps back a little with some half formed plans to get Zach's belt out of the way, but Zach's having none of it, reels him back in by his tie, the one he'd worn during most of the interviews for A Dime a Dozen — he remembers because he'd spent the majority of the time toying with it, with Zach elbowing him constantly and smelling like that hipster as fuck cologne that he had on right now like always. Chris rips his mouth away to kiss Zach's elegant neck and smell it even better – he's rewarded with an appreciative little groan, smiles against the skin.

Zach laughs a little, and Chris can hear the 20th Century Fox fanfare in the background as he loosens Chris's tie enough to lick a hot stripe up chest collarbone neck tendon jaw. Chris shivers and pulls Zach blindly closer.

Zach's tongue reaches his ear about the time he's backed Chris into a concrete wall, overturning some unfortunate chair in the process. Chris's heartbeat leaps up to his throat deliciously and Chris can't remember the last time he'd felt this intoxicated about anything. Zach is surround-sound surround-scent and tropically hot.

"Hey," Zach says, ragged. Chris shivers. "I'll suck you off, but just let it be known that I'll require some reciprocation. And I won't accept a big gay crisis as an excuse."

"Dude, how are we even talking about this?"

"You're sneaky and self-absorbed," Zach says matter-of-factly.

"What, so, you don't trust me? You don't have faith in my sexual etiquette?" He'll show _him_ :

Chris gets hands on Zach's goddamn belt – Zach murmurs _Hey . . ._ and looks down as if entranced. Chris's got a grin when Zach meets his eyes again, and all that cocky confidence has fled from their deep dark depths.

Chris laughs, reveling in the upper hand, gets Zach's fly open roughly while engaging his mouth in a vague clingy kiss where Zach gasps and lets Chris taste him.

Chris drops unceremoniously to the floor, doesn't stop to worry about sucking at sucking him off and dives on in. Of course that doesn't mean the weirdness of the situation is lost on him, and he thinks more about doing things to his preference to Zach so that they may serve as later inspiration. Still in some roundabout way it's like every movement echoes in Chris, so that's all right.

Zach's cock seems comically large to Chris, but that's just a trick of perspective or Chris's primary allegiance to heterosexuality or the way his lust is scrambling his brain matter. But Chris finds he doesn't care about the psychology of it, wants only to suck better and make Zach want him just as much.

Chris gets Zach against the wall, keeps him still at the hips and licks languorously just under the head of Zach's cock. Zach's fingers desperate on Chris's shoulders and the sound of his head thunking in frustration against the wall.

Chris glances up to see the blissed out look on Zach's face – breathing hard past dark pink lips, brows knit tight and upset hair falling against such sculpted cheekbones. Shadow over his familiar nose and the sound of his voice gasping. The gorgeous artistic drape of his clothes. And Chris is more turned on by the silk and linen that constrain Zach's body than anything – needs to negate or own the way that that's so exciting.

Chris takes Zach in deep and gets dizzy with the idea of how hard he is, the crazy way it feels so good to map it out with his tongue. Sucks hard on the upstroke and lets his fingers circle around the base to squeeze and move slow and meaningfully while he bobs and sucks less and less until Zach whines, more and more until Zach moans.

He discovers a certain delicious tremble to Zach's thighs when his tongue flicks hard under the head so he repeats it with every stroke. Focuses more on doing everything faster to the encouragement of Zach's tightening grip. Every sensation feels like pleasure to Chris – Zach's demanding nails, the fullness of his cock, the engrossing taste of it, the ache in Chris's jaw, the sound of their voices far in the background in the theater bullshitting out lines.

Zach chokes some kind of warning but Chris's determined to do this right, lets up a little to avoid gagging embarrassingly, sucks harder than his protesting embouchure will allow and moves his hand ever faster.

Zach comes with a lovely masculine sound that Chris had somehow not expected, and it's easier to swallow that shock of saltiness than he'd thought, too. The whole world's turning upside down.

And Chris doesn't want to brag or anything, but based on the way Zach had been digging his fingers into Chris's shoulders he doesn't expect him to be on the offensive any time soon.

He wrong. Zach fixes him with that hot hungry look Chris supposes people find so attractive in him, and they're not wrong because Chris's cock leaps back to full attention.

Zach drops/collapses to the floor beside him, rushes in to kiss his mouth and capture him by the hair. And the clashing of lips and tongues urges them horizontal.

Zach obsesses over Chris with his mouth, hovering above him and sucking every patch of skin possible. He gets Chris's pants open with uncharacteristic heedlessness for such fancy fashion, and that in itself turns Chris on.

Zach kisses through Chris's shirt like he can't help himself, shoves it up enough to lick into his bellybutton in a way that shoots pleasure in a direct line to Chris's groin. Drags his spit-slick lips down the trail of hair to Chris's cock and wastes no time in taking him to the root.

Chris bites his lip, closes his eyes and can already feel the storm of orgasm flashing electric warning behind his lids. Zach's mouth feels good, good, good, just _good_ and Chris's forgotten about vocabulary entirely . . . the way Zach plays with Chris's balls and can suck him in so deep, perfectly paced.

Chris's eyes fly open. The set of Zach's shoulders, his hair fallen out of place – these things seem to mean everything somehow. "Fuck, I'm— _fuck_ —"

And Zach's not concerned with that either, lets Chris come down his throat and grins up at him after. "Fuck," he agrees.

Chris sits up, pulls his clothes into some semblance of order and pretends that he's caught his breath already. Zach just sits there looking smug.

"So!" Chris says. "We can still catch, well, most of the movie."

There's a pause for Zach to stare at him. " _Ye_ -ah . . . there's a club down the street."

Chris stands, pulls Zach too his feet too. Zach whose mouth is wet and utterly incriminating. "Well, fuck," Chris says. "Let's go."

*

Debbie texts him at some ungodly hour. Chris grabs his iPhone blindly and, indeed, it reads _11:43 AM_. Unbelievable.

He throws off some sheets and rolls over onto his back to read it. Skims and can only register the highlights: _situation comedy – remake – surefire hit – make up for the last one_ – with _Olivia Wilde!_ thrown in there for good measure.

Chris texts back, _Not my type. Get me something with a director that people actually know the name of._ He figures that's a good rule of thumb.

"New offer?" Zach asks, voice still sleep-ridden. He looks unbearably good in the morning. Schooches closer and kisses Chris's bare shoulder. "You gonna take it?"

"Um, no. Gross."

"Good man," Zach says. "I have way better things planned for you today, anyway." Chris just fucking _hates_ that smug look of his.

The only solution is to kiss it off his face.

*


End file.
